Flame
by SingularToast
Summary: Artie catches Puck in a weak moment; Puck pining for something he'll never have. FutureFic.


**Title:** Flame  
**Pairing/Characters:** Puck, Rachel, Artie  
**Rating/Warnings:** G  
**Summary:** Artie catches Puck in a weak moment; Puck pining for something he'll never have. FutureFic.  
**Spoilers:** Nope.  
**Disclaimer:** _Glee_ doesn't belong to me. No monies.

* * *

"Noah!"

"You're in for it now," Artie chuckled, looking over his shoulder at where Puck was reclining on the couch. "Your hands are empty and you're doing sweet F-A, you can't escape."

Smirking, Puck just watched as Artie turned back and continued to adjust the picture quality on the brand new television he'd bought the Hudsons. Everyone else had complained that he'd never bought them such a great housewarming gift, but he just shrugged off all their comments. He didn't care.

This family deserved the best.

"What do you think you're doing?" Said a mock-stern voice, and Puck shifted his gaze upward, looking at the little brunette who was leaning over the back of the couch with an armful of baby. "Uh-uh, you're not allowed to slack off while the rest of us are working. Here."

Trying not to look too eager, Puck gladly took Abigail from her outstretched arms, tucking the tiny six month old against his side. Her little eyes immediately darted up to meet his and she smiled broadly, cooing softly at him.

Above him, her mother shook her head. "I still don't understand it. She doesn't react that way to anyone else."

"It's my animal magnetism, babe," he told her, pulling his gaze away from the little pink bundle for just a moment to stare at Rachel. "Even the little ones can't resist me."

Rolling her eyes, Rachel leaned down to smack his arm playfully before making her way back to the kitchen. "I'm just making her a bottle!" She called over her shoulder.

Puck nodded dumbly but didn't reply, his eyes already locked back on the little girl in his arms. He traced a finger lightly against her chubby little cheek, and Abigail closed her eyes, her lashes gently brushing her skin. Curving a hand against the smattering of soft brown hair on her head, smoothing the wispy strands, be quelled the urge to make her open her eyes once more. He loved looking into those chocolate depths; they were so much like her mother's. Not Finn's. No, they were too dark and too expressive to ever be her father's eyes. They were definitely Rachel's.

She even had the beginnings of Rachel's nose. _Poor thing_, he thought to himself, chuckling softly. She'd probably hate that inherited trait later in life.

He'd make sure he was there to tell her how adorable it was.

"There you go," Rachel said, obviously having returned from the kitchen. Looking up to see a bottle dangling in front of his face, Puck took the warm milk from her hand, ignoring the way his fingers brushed against hers as he did. Not a single flicker of awareness crossed her face, and he tried not to sigh.

"You know, once Luke sees this he's going to demand for one as well," he told her, smiling once again.

His chuckle returned when Rachel rolled her eyes, shifting so she could kneel on the floor, her crossed arms resting on the back of the couch as she looked down at her daughter. "I swear that boy couldn't possibly grow any more like his father, and I'm somehow still surprised every time he does. Now that this little one's here it's all 'Where's mine?' and 'I want one too' and 'No, I want _that_ one!'" She laughed and shook her head, but her adoring gaze didn't once leave little Abigail's face.

Puck's heart clenched at the sight.

"At least this one seems to be turning out like you," he murmured, looking back at the little bundle in his arms, shifting her so her cheek rested against his shoulder as he lowered the bottle to her lips.

"A small blessing," Rachel agreed. "I'll have her demanding singing lessons and trips to the theatre in no time."

Calls of 'Rachel, where's Luke's helicopter?' and 'Hello-popter! Hello-popter!' interrupted them, and they both let out soft sighs of regret. Or at least Puck's was full of regret. Rachel's may have been more out of frustration because her one moment of quiet time had been interrupted.

"Back to work," she said, getting to her feet. Leaning far over the couch, she brushed her lips against her daughter's cheek, and smoothed her hand over her little head. Puck tried not to breath in the scent of her perfume, mentally telling his heart to _slow the fuck down_.

He literally had to sit on his hand to stop himself from dragging her back down to him when she pulled away.

"Let me know when you're finished and I can burp her for you if you'd like," she was telling him, readjusting the blanket that had been thrown over the back of the couch.

"I can do it," he told her, shaking his head. "Had heaps of practise with Luke, remember?"

She smiled fondly at him, at _him_, and replied, "How could I forget?" Reaching over she ruffled a hand in his mohawk, making the end stick out every which-way and probably ruining the 'do he had going on. He found that he didn't really care. "You're such a great Godparent."

"I'm a better Godparent!" Said Artie, who had been completely forgotten up until then.

"I don't see you nursing the little one," Puck replied, arching a brow at his best friend.

Artie chuckled, wheeling his chair around to face the other two. "Only because I'm too busy fixing _your_ present for them. I'm two seconds away from finishing this, then I'll be right over there and taking her out of your arms."

Instinctively Puck's grip tightened slightly, and he brought his head lower down so his cheek was brushing against Abigail's forehead. "No way man, she's mine." His heart skipped a beat, and he had to close his eyes against the pain those few words caused him.

She wasn't his. She'd never be his. He'd never have this.

"Oh, stop it you two, you can fight over her later." Brushing her hand against her daughter's little fist where it clutched tightly at the bottle, Rachel stepped away from the couch and moved back toward the hallway that lead to the bedrooms. "I'll be helping Quinn if you need anything!"

"Okay," Puck called back, watching her retreating form until he couldn't see her anymore. Facing the baby in his arms, he used his sleeve to wipe up some spilt formula that sat on her chin.

On the other side of the room, Artie looked on. It was clear from the look on his face that he had mixed feelings about what he could see happening in front of him. Pity, uncomfortableness, sudden knowing, and a slight twinge of surprise; he didn't realise Puck still carried that flame after all this time.

"I think Mercedes and Carol will be bringing the food out soon," he told his friend, wheeling himself away from the finely tuned television.

"That's cool," Puck said absently, not taking his eyes away from the little baby girl. "I'll just stay here with Abby."

Moving closer to the couch, Artie looked down at the tiny bundle, unable to help the smile that crossed his face at her expression. Her hands were clenched around the bottle, and her lips were tugging hard on the teat, but she had eyes only for the man holding her. "She looks just like Rachel," he said, looking up at Puck.

He was startled by the soft smile crossed the man's face, one that was so open and content. This man, who had fought his entire life not to let anyone see any vulnerability, was staring at this baby like he was in love, and he'd never seen anything like it on his face before.

No, now that he thought about it that wasn't quite true, was it? He'd seen him looking at another person in a similar way.

"Yeah, she does," was all the guy told him, and Artie decided then that he should take his leave to let the two of them sit in peace.

To let Puck have these few moments alone with the child he'd never have. He just hoped to God that Finn never realised.


End file.
